


under a sky of dust

by Tedronai



Category: The Malazan Book of the Fallen - Steven Erikson
Genre: Book: Reaper's Gale, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Gen, not of the romantic sort but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 05:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18067229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tedronai/pseuds/Tedronai
Summary: Why shouldn’t she? Because of Trull Sengar? Should she remain faithful to a dead man, one who didn’t even know her, couldn’t know her, let alone love her?





	under a sky of dust

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look it's the fic literally nobody was asking for, out of all the things I could have spent the last two days writing. I can't even blame anyone else for this one, it's all on me.

The stream, not quite big enough to be called a river, came down from the mountains, its water crystal clear and freezing cold. Seren Pedac let out an involuntary gasp as she splashed the cold water on her face, then did the same to her arms and neck, any bit of exposed skin she could reach without taking off her undershirt. It was a fine balance, she’d found, between staying warm and not getting too filthy, while one was a fugitive.

The shadow of a winged leviathan passed overhead, and Seren straightened and turned to watch as the great, bone-white dragon landed on the other side of the clearing, the setting sun painting its scales in shades of crimson and gold. Its arrival alerted the rest of their travelling companions as well, and all eyes were focused on Silchas Ruin as he sembled and strode towards the camp. He had left an hour earlier to intercept their pursuers, those closest to catching up with the small party, and judging by the blood spattering his face and the faint smell of smoke that followed him, he had found them.

Fear Sengar was the first to speak. “They were close?”

Silchas Ruin’s eyes flickered towards him. “They were,” was all he said.

There was a snort from Udinaas. “And just like that, they’re no more. Must be nice, to be able to cut down all your problems without a second thought. Gone.”

“Would you rather they caught up with us?” There was a touch of irritation in Fear’s voice, which was only going to make Udinaas bait him further, trying to make him snap. Likely he would succeed, sooner or later.

Ignoring the bickering that carried on in his wake, Silchas walked straight towards Seren, and suddenly she remembered what she was wearing, and what she wasn’t. Of course it didn’t matter — the Tiste Andii barely glanced her way as he knelt by the stream to wash away the blood — but sometimes she was reminded that she was the only woman in the party, barring Kettle, who was a child. Seren picked up her things from where she’d left them folded on top of a rock and began putting the layers of clothing back on.

“Were you hurt?” she asked, not really expecting that to be the case but feeling like somebody should ask anyway.

The cold, red eyes fixed on her for a second, and she thought there was something amused about the inhuman gaze. “It’s not my blood, Acquitor.”

_Right. Of course not._ Strapping her belt on she turned and made her way back to the others. Fear Sengar watched her with sharp eyes — or not her, she realised, but Silchas Ruin, who followed not far behind her. She didn’t miss the significance of that gaze, though she could wish she was oblivious to it. _Concerned for my virtue, Fear? I’m afraid that ship sailed long ago._

Settling down with her supper of travel rations and slightly too bitter tea, Seren tuned out the chatter of her companions. The small party was held together by necessity, the members tied to each other by nebulous ties of honour and obligation, of goals and dreams that for now happened to lead them in the same direction but clashed and conflicted in essence. They all carried their traumas and dysfunctions, their regrets and bitter sorrows like trophies; their broken, jagged edges ground together, tearing open wounds time after time and watch the sharks drawn to the smell of blood.

Seren was tired of it. She was _tired_ , she’d been tired ever since Trate, if not before, and she had a feeling they had a long way to go yet. She kept mostly apart from the rest, leaning on her role as the Acquitor, the guide, someone who was not really part of the group she was guiding.

It was a nice conceit, but in reality she knew she was fooling herself. No matter; that was one thing she’d always been good at.

 

That night she lay awake, staring up at the countless stars above, trying to draw comfort from their familiar patterns. Next to her on the ground lay Trull Sengar’s sword, and time and again she found her hand straying towards the weapon as if to make sure it was still there. As though a sword might just up and leave if she didn’t keep an eye on it. Ridiculous, but was there anything about the situation — the sword situation — that wasn’t?

_Let’s not answer that question._

Tired of trying to sleep, she sat up and looked at her sleeping companions. The child Kettle was curled against Udinaas’ side like a little animal. Fear Sengar looked uncharacteristically untroubled, if not quite peaceful, and the sight of him made Seren want to scream. She didn’t, of course. Of Wither the wraith there was no sign, and Silchas Ruin…

Seren looked around and found the Tiste Andii perched on top of a large rock, staring intently into the horizon. Quietly, hoping she didn’t wake anyone, Seren got up and slowly approached him. He didn’t acknowledge her presence in any way until she climbed onto the rock as well and sat next to him, a distance of an arm’s length between them. Then he finally turned his head to look at her, eyebrows raised slightly in silent inquiry.

“Do you ever sleep?” Seren asked. That was not what she’d meant to say, but she _was_ tired.

“Yes,” came the answer, faintly amused. After a moment of silence, he added, “And I think you should be doing so right now.”

Seren, obviously, couldn’t disagree so she just shrugged. It was unexpectedly nice, sitting like this, without the layers of stifling antagonism that were always present when Silchas Ruin, Fear Sengar and Udinaas were in the same place at the same time. With only Silchas, it was gone, and Seren couldn’t be sure if she was just projecting but it seemed that he, too, was more relaxed than she’d ever seen him before.

This moment of not-quite-camaraderie couldn’t have ever happened with Fear or Udinaas; Fear saw her as his brother’s betrothed, and to Udinaas she was a free Letherii, someone who had never known debt or slavery and therefore could never relate. But with Silchas, there was none of that. He didn’t hold her to unreasonable expectations; he didn’t care who or what she was. He didn’t care, and that was… _liberating_. The others cared too much, about the wrong things, and she would never quite fit in because she’d learnt long ago that caring was the path to ruin — hah — and maybe Silchas had come to similar conclusion somewhere over the millennia he’d spent buried under the Azath. Maybe she did have something in common with one of her travelling companions, after all.

And it was only when the thought surfaced that she realised just how much she’d wanted to feel that way. A connection; any connection. And in that moment there was nothing she wouldn’t have done to hold on to it, to make it last a little longer—

 

“Were you going to sit here all night?” Silchas asked, the question so jarring against the fantasy she’d managed to get lost in that it left her mentally reeling.

“I don’t know,” she replied, feeling a little defensive. “Were you?”

“I don’t need as much sleep as you humans.”

_Right. Of course._ “What _do_ you need, then?” she asked, scrambling for some excuse to stay. That connection she had so briefly felt, surely she could find it again if she just—

The Tiste Andii glanced at her, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Nothing you can give me.”

“Are you sure?” she heard her voice say, and something in her head was screaming at her that this was idiocy, she didn’t really want to be doing this, but she shut it down. Because why not? Why shouldn’t she? Because of Trull Sengar? Should she remain faithful to a dead man, one who didn’t even know her, couldn’t know her, let alone love her? That was absurd; she’d never wanted it — _then why does it hurt so much?_ — and she refused to just silently conform to other people’s expectations like that. She was no Edur; the sword meant nothing to her—

“What do you mean?” Silchas Ruin’s voice, suddenly wary and distant — and that was the opposite of what she’d wanted — penetrated through her frantic, racing thoughts.

“You know what I mean,” she replied, appalled to hear the slight tremor in her voice. “It must have been a while since you’ve been with a woman.”

If he’d been distant before, now it was as though a wall had slammed down between them. Silchas shook his head, finally looking directly at her. “You don’t want to do this—”

“But—”

“—and I’m not interested,” he finished.

“In women?” Seren suddenly realised she’d not even considered that possibility.

But Silchas just smiled thinly, an expression that held no warmth and little sympathy. “ _You_ , Acquitor,” he said. “We both know why you’re really doing this, and I understand probably better than you think, but I will not be an instrument of your self-destruction.” He let the words sink in for a second before looking away again. “Now, go.”

That was not something she could argue against. Humiliated, yet more than a little relieved, Seren went.


End file.
